


Set you free

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [177]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Apologies, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: "I hate him," Wanda says. Vision, politely, does not say anything at all. "I've hated him all my life. He sold weapons. He knew they were weapons. But he only stopped because it was Americans that got hurt. Becausehegot hurt. He does not know what it means that we lost our parents as we did. He does notcare."Vision's hands are gentle in hers, turning hers over and over, as though to examine them in every part. She wonders if, with his inhuman eyes and the stone in his forehead, he can see where the scarlet hides in her bones ready to emerge with any spike of anger or purpose or intent."I think," Vision says gently, "You will find he cares more than you know. Than even he knows. And that it is simply he does not alwaysthinkas much as he might."





	Set you free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiterou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiterou/gifts).



> Written when I was rather drunk and at the prompting of Kiterou, who asked for a Wanda-centric fic where Wanda and Tony worked out their issues and apologies happened.
> 
> I was surprised by how few typos I found, and how coherent it was even before editing.

Life is pain. Wanda knows this. Her whole life has been pain and agony, something she's never chosen but had to endure all the same. Parents dead, city a ruin, politics a constant enemy. No matter what they protested nothing changed. For years the only certainty she's had has been Pietro, an anchor for her very sanity in all the chaos around them.

Then chaos had become her sanity. Then chaos had become all she could do.

_ You're a witch, _ Pietro had said. His hands cupped hers without fear.  _ A witch like Mama. _

He never feared her. Never doubted her. Always obeyed her. Always expected her to lead.

_ Who can I lead now, Pietro? _ She asks his grave.  _ You aren't here. _

She can lead no one. If she does, she will lead them to death. Instead, she supposes, she must find new purpose.

 

* * *

 

Vision is a gentle presence. He's quiet and considerate - observes but never judges. He is, more than anything, a witness to the world, and not someone who seeks to dictate his will upon it.

"I could," he says, when she asks. "It would be easy to. I can connect to the internet with ease, alter almost anything. I can make myself impossible to hit, or so dense they can do me no damage. It would be easy. But if I do so, I think it might defeat the point of existence. Mistakes must be made by a person's own will - I cannot decide their fates for them."

He is quiet. He listens. He said before  _ look again _ and shows no fear when she asks to stretch scarlet fingers into his mind.

"The offer is open," he says. "I trust you."

It is more than she knows what to do with, that trust, and she turns her scarlet back. "I'm sorry," she whispers instead.

"For what?" he asks. "If you had not looked within my skull Ultron might well have succeeded."

 

* * *

 

"One rule," Natasha says when Wanda first turns up for training. "I don't give a fuck what you do, but if you go in my head again, I will stab you."

This is, Wanda thinks, possibly the most reasonable response she's come across. Even Pietro was not so reasonable, but then she could not hurt Pietro any more than he could hurt her. His trust in her was built on that, and Natasha has no such thing to reassure her.

"I promise," Wanda says. She does not say more. She does not think that Natasha cares to hear the explanation. "I am- I did not see what I did within your mind. But I know it was not good. I am sorry."

Natasha smiles very slightly. It is the same smile Katalina would give when Wanda arrived late for a shift, the smile of  _ I know you are sorry. You are still going to pay, but not painfully. _

"We'll see," she says. "Go on. Obstacle course, first."

Wanda takes off running.

 

* * *

 

Thor is to leave soon. Wanda's avoided him, mostly. He is a godling, not quite a god as known by most but.... he is more than human and even his mind proclaims it - a great reaching thing, sometimes a tree like Pietro's mind, sometimes a temple like the Captain’s. Wanda knows not what to make of it, but she can make fear of it.

"He is not so terrible as you fear," Vision says when she asks him. "Maybe that is because he accepts me that I think that, but... I do not think he seeks to hurt you. He understands the choices you made, I think, and he accepts an ally in battle easily."

Wanda looks at him sceptically, but Vision simply smiles in his gentle way. He does not judge. He simply offers without expectation. It’s why she likes him so.

"If you say so," Wanda says, and steps forward.

 

* * *

 

Thor is far kinder than she expects. Then again, for a man who looks and acts like someone barely out of his twenties, he is far far older. 

"More than a thousand years," he says. "And I have known betrayal too."

"I am sorry," Wanda says, and Thor waves a hand. 

"We all make mistakes when twisted by emotion. Even when calm we make mistakes - it is the cost of living. You know what you have done. I think that is enough on its own."

He smiles gently. His hammer hangs loosely in one hand - relaxed, if not set down. Ready to take up the weapon, but not assuming a threat. Wanda thinks it is quite reasonable. 

"You saw something," she says eventually. "I did not- I only set off fear. What do you fear so much that it might make a nightmare into Vision?"

For a long while Thor is silent. "That," he says, "Is a very good question, little witch."

 

* * *

 

"Come on," Steve says - and it’s always Steve, for all her mind has long thought of him only as the Captain. "Come on, let’s get going."

She's thought of him as the Captain for so many years, but he is far more than that. Far more than a mere rank, once given as courtesy and then earned in blood and tears and sweat and loss. He has lost almost as much as she has, but she knows what she has seen, even outside of the glimpses she has of minds. The brother he has lost may yet be found, while hers is gone forever.

Nonetheless, he knows loss. When Vision was elsewhere, when Clint left for his family, it was the Captain who sought her out. It was the Captain who made sure he became  _ Steve _ \- a person and not an icon.

She does not know how to apologise, but he does not appear to expect it. 

"We all do stupid things sometimes," he says. "We just gotta make sure we don't do them again."

"Like you trusting Pietro and I?"

Steve smiles, a grin bright and warm. "I don't think that was a mistake." His voice is soft. "You had a good idea - justice, vengeance. You had a reason for what you wanted. You just went about it a bad way. We all do that sometimes."

"I shouldn't have gone into your head."

Steve shrugs. "Maybe not. But you did, and that's what we have to deal with now."

The memories of what he saw flicker over the surface of his mind, and Wanda almost flinches. Steve's hand is gentle on hers. 

"Besides," he says, "Showing me my fear? Ultron wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. It's not war I need, but I do need purpose. I just used war as a purpose for so long. You showed me something I need to work on. I don't think that's a bad thing."

 

* * *

 

Clint's farm is refuge. Safety. She likes it. There's a peace there made of chaos, and it sings to the scarlet inside of her, soothing her as the order of the base rarely can. The children run, the baby screams, Laura runs around frantically while Clint stands like a rock in a storm, sorting everything he can even if sometimes that's from a distance.

"CLINT!" Laura yells one morning. "IF YOU DON'T CHANGE NATE'S DIAPER I WILL CASTRATE YOU!"

Clint laughs, and does as his wife says. Then, job done, he makes hot chocolate for everyone - the proper kind, with milk and melted chocolate, and spices stirred in. 

"Thank you," he says while whisking the mixture. "For letting us name him for your brother."

_ Nathaniel Pietro. _

Something in Wanda weeps to let it be so, and another part of her - the scarlet, her chaos, her hope and her dreams, it - sings. Some part of her brother lives on, even if it’s not always with her. 

"He would want it, I think," Wanda says. "He would never say so, but he would want it. He was used to being a protector. He was not used to that being acknowledged or respected. A protector known could not protect as well, after all."

When Clint looks at her, his expression is sad in a way that is not simply grief. Wanda does not know what to make of it. 

"He did a good job," he says eventually. "You know he kicked me through a window when I shocked you?"

Wanda does not expect the laugh she coughs up. It startles out of her like birds from a tree when a car backfires - quick, unexpected, squawking and chattering in the exhilaration of it.  _ Of course he did, _ Wanda thinks.  _ Of course he did. _

Then the tears come. Clint's hand is gentle when he pulls her to lean against him.

"I'm sorry," she says when they subside. "For- I had heard the stories. The rumours. Everyone had at the castle - they said they were SHIELD for so long that everyone knew SHIELD stories. What Loki did. I should not-"

Clint's hand is as gentle on her hair as Pietro's used to be. "We were on different sides, then," he says. "Can't expect you to be kind to an enemy. Kind of defeats the point."

Wanda looks at him, eyes red with grief and scarlet. It is to Clint's credit that, though he flinches, he does not step away. 

"You fear me," she says. "And what I can do. You do not do so without reason."

Clint is shaking. She can see the tremors of his skin, the subtle fear, the tension like his bowstring. 

"Maybe," Clint says. "But that's my problem. Come here, Wanda. You need a hug."

 

* * *

 

"I hate him," Wanda says. Vision, politely, does not say anything at all. "I've hated him all my life. He sold weapons. He knew they were weapons. But he only stopped because it was Americans that got hurt. Because  _ he _ got hurt. He does not know what it means that we lost our parents as we did. He does not  _ care." _

Vision's hands are gentle in hers, turning hers over and over, as though to examine them in every part. She wonders if, with his inhuman eyes and the stone in his forehead, he can see where the scarlet hides in her bones ready to emerge with any spike of anger or purpose or intent. 

"I think," Vision says gently, "You will find he cares more than you know. Than even he knows. And that it is simply he does not always  _ think _ as much as he might."

Wanda looks at him, watches him. She can see Vision's mind still turning, still finding the words.

"Tony is smart," he says. "As smart as Doctor Banner. But Banner was dangerous if he was not careful, so he learned how to be careful. For him, it was easy, because he already cared. Tony was not taught to do that. All the caring he was taught was from his mother, and she died. And then, my understanding - JARVIS' understanding - is that he decided that caring just allowed him to be hurt. His callousness is a learned defence, his ignorance a practice meant to save his feelings. He is not yet accustomed to trying to save those of others. But if he is told, he will try, I think."

Wanda cannot apologise to Banner. She would not know how to try. She saw his mind - all his fear and dread at the idea of hurting others - and she cursed him with a nightmare anyway. 

But she can at least try with Stark.

 

* * *

 

She has hated Stark all her life. Even before the bomb she knew the name: Warmaker. Deathmaker. Merchant of Death. He who made weapons, and sold them, and sat on a throne of corpses. Corpses she passed on the way to school. Corpses she waited above for two days with only Pietro for company. The corpses of her parents.

She does not think she is capable of forgiving him, even a little.

"We don't have to be enemies," Tony had said when showing her her rooms in the base. "I mean, I don't think we're gonna be friends. But if we're both Avengers, I'd rather not be enemies."

To Wanda, Tony has always been an enemy. Fighting alongside him against Ultron does not change that even a little. She does not feel bad for setting a nightmare loose in his mind, only for those who were hurt as a consequence. For Sokovia, for the innocents hurt there, for Doctor Cho, for Vision, who never asked to be, let alone to fight his maker and who did so all the same. 

But Tony? She has known him all her life as an enemy. A single fight at his side does not end that.

 

* * *

 

"Stop lingering," Tony says. "You know I can see you, right?"

She steps out of the side of the corridor and into the doorway. Tony's looking right at her from by his desk. She's not sure how he spotted her - probably a camera, or thermal goggles. She had hidden by the side, after all, out of sight. These days she does not need her eyes to see. 

Tony's stood by a desk. Or maybe it is a table. Wanda's not too sure of the difference in this room - a mess of surfaces, each covered in mess themselves. Each one has a different project: pieces of his suit, adaptations for armour, a set of arrows, a knife that seems to be disintegrating itself. He's standing in front of something on a little stand, a rounded forked arch, only a handspan across. 

"I am sorry," she says. "I did not want to impose."

Tony shrugs, seemingly uncaring. Vision is right though - he cares more than she knows. His mind shows it, clear as crystal, clear as his garish suit against the sky. He does care that she was there, that she watched in silence, that she watched with minds, and that she will not tell him why she is here.

But then, she is not even sure she will give herself a reason to be here just yet.

 

* * *

 

She waits just within the doorway, watching. There's no sign of scarlet - and no matter how hard he tries FRIDAY can't seem to detect it with anything less than  _ all the goddamn power _ so he's decided against going full paranoia just yet. Everyone else seems to trust her and while he might suspect that Steve's just a wimp with too much kindness, he can't say the same for Natasha or for Thor, let alone for Clint. He's still not entirely sure how the man who lost his mind to Loki is able to let the witch who messed with all of theirs into his home, but that he is has to say something.

He's not sure what that is yet, though.

She stands by the door, and he finally sees what Vision means when he says that Wanda is not a threat. Without her brother looming at her shoulder she seems less confident, less certain. There's none of the same purpose that made her so deadly before. It’s almost a shame - he hates to see potential wasted whether its a tool or a person, and he thinks that the Maximoff girl is more than a little broken by her brother's death. 

That said, he's not entirely sure he'd not rather have the brother than the sister. 

The girl's face goes sour and he realises her silence. She can see minds, after all, that's what Vision had said, what the records implied. But, Vision had only said  _ see. _

_ She doesn't like to listen in, _ Vision had said.  _ I'm not sure why. Politeness, I think, now we are no longer enemies. Or maybe feeling her brother die has terrified her too much to touch a mind again. But she is not the threat you fear. I would rather you do not try to impede her mind's ability. _

Goddamnit Vision. He can't say no to the thing, though. Not when he sounds so much like JARVIS.

 

* * *

 

Stark’s mind is a mess of thoughts, a scatter after a scatter like the sun on the river. Each time in a new direction. For a moment there is Pietro in his mind, smiling, smirking and rage snarls out of her belly, because  _ how dare _ he imagine her brother. It is because of his weapons, because of his Ultron that her brother is  _ dead. _

But then, Ultron is her fault too. The reminder is like a lead hammer, hard and terrible. Her stomach feels sick.

Stark pinches his nose. Sighs. "Stop lingering," he says. "I don't know why you're here. I don't care. But either tell me or go, because I don't like to work with an audience, if you don't mind, witch."

Laughter bubbles up, but she doesn't let it out.  _ Witch. _ If only he knew. The chaos that swims in her stomach, that builds in her bones, that makes her muscles - she is far more than just a witch. Even with Pietro gone, she is deadly if she is not careful. She knows what it is to be a witch - to guide the children of the streets, to care for the lost, to work magics only the wise can know. She's done that. She spent years doing that with only Pietro to guard her. With Pietro gone she is no longer just a witch. She has to be her own protector as well, and she will be, even if she is still learning how. 

"Maximoff." Tony's voice is cold and hard and Wanda tilts her head to see him more clearly. His mind is slower now, stuttering in something that is not quite fear. "Get out or give me a reason why you should stay."

 

* * *

 

"We owe each other apologies, I think."

Her accent clips her words, but they're unmistakable all the same. She watches him quietly, with no scarlet in her gaze - and he's watching for that like Hawkeye. He swears she's channelling Vision - she's said the words but there's no pressure to them, no expectation. She's simply waiting for his answer.

She hasn't asked a question, though, which means there's a layer to what she's saying that she hasn't spoken.

_ We owe each other apologies, I think. _

Beyond being the idiot who sold weapons for more than two decades he's really not sure what else he owes an apology for.

 

* * *

 

"You sold weapons," Wanda says. "You made them and you sold them. And then, when you said you would make no more, you made the suit, and started the wave of  _ heroes _ who began to make things worse. And, when you were confronted, when my brother said,  _ like old times _ you said-"

"This was never my life."

Wanda nods. Vision is right, she thinks. Stark cares far more than he readily shows. 

Behind his table Stark sinks into an unseen seat. Scrubs a grimy hand over his face, leaving a trail of fine oil down one cheek. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that was a dumb thing to say." The thoughts in his mind are swift, but not so swift as her brother had been. She picks them up easily - bombs, weapons, the tools on his desk, the simple knowledge he'd lived with and ignored for years. "Yeah. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

Wanda nods again, takes a further step into the room. 

 

* * *

 

She steps in like a predator, as though she is hunting for something. Slow steps, careful steps. Heel-toe in her heeled boots, same as Pep does when she's about to destroy some scuzzy CEO. Tony's known enough women to know the step of someone stepping carefully in for the kill. 

"I am sorry, too," she says.

There is a long moment where he does not know how to breathe. The knowledge is simply gone from his head and there's an instant where he wonders if it was her, but he cannot see any scarlet. Then, a breath draws in and he coughs. 

"Pardon?" he says. 

The corner of one lip is sucked into her mouth, held between two teeth. At her sides her fingers are running patterns, thumb to index, middle, ring and pinky and then back up the cycle. 

"I owe you an apology too. You may have killed my parents, but I put a nightmare in your head. Made you see your worst fears. And unlike St- the Captain, you have not dealt with yours yet. You are pretending it is not there."

 

* * *

 

His mind goes scarlet and gold in fear. Blood and pus - the remains he has left on so much of the world, the colours of his suit. 

"I have not gone in your head," she says, lifting a hand. "I am just saying what I see from outside." She glances away from him, cannot look at the face she has hated so long. Nonetheless, her scarlet sight can see his mind go from panic to calm. 

"This is what I mean," she says, still watching a wall. "I owe you an apology. I do not know if you will ever deal with this that I have given you, but I  _ did _ give it to you, just as you gave me the deaths of my parents. Apologies are owed."

When she looks back to him he's nodding very slightly. His jaw is jutted out, the uncomfortable pose of someone trying not to show whatever emotions they feel. 

"Apology given," he says. "Your apology accepted."

Its not, she knows, but she knows that this is at least a first step. His mind is not the same as it was, now. 

"You gonna go?"

Wanda smiles, just a little, and bows her head. With quick steps she leaves Tony to his tinkering. 

 

* * *

 

Vision waits for her in the main room. She's not sure what he's been doing to pass the time, but he glances up as soon as she enters, a small smile spreading over his face. She likes his smile. There's no suggestion that they're due to her, even though she knows he smiles because she's there. He smiles because her presence makes him happy, not because he wants her to be there to make him happy. There's no pressure to his company. 

"Faced down your nightmare?" he asks.

Wanda settles beside him, leans a little against his side. He never seems to know how to respond to that but he never minds it. His arm doesn't move to encircle her as Pietro's would, but instead simply phases so she can lean against his body without the arm in the way. It’s the strangest and yet kindest comfort she's known. 

"One of them," she says. "And I do not know if it will work."

Vision picks up the book she'd been leafing through yesterday and passes it to her. "All you can ever do," he says. "Is try your best."

 

* * *

 

Tony avoids her. She knows that he'd avoided spending too much time around her before but that was expected. This, now, is something else.

It is not obvious. It is not like Pietro, making excuses as soon as an enemy arrived, dragging her by the arm away in a way so blatant as to be rude. But he is treading the line, dodging out of the way and avoiding her words. It is almost childlike, sometimes, almost like Pietro pretending someone didn't exist, but not quite. She thinks back to the image of her brother in Stark's mind, and thinks now that they might just have got along. 

But Vision has noticed this too, and Vision does not like two people who contributed to his making not getting along. She reminds herself that the last time it had happened, he had killed the one he felt to be the most wrong. 

"I will speak to him," Wanda promises. "I know what you said. I do not think you are entirely wrong about him. Just a little naive."

"I wasn't born yesterday," Vision says, but his smile is so wide as to make it a joke.

"Maybe not," Wanda says, warm with fondness. "But it wasn't that much longer ago."

 

* * *

 

Tony doesn't do apologies. Doesn't like to make them, though he'll admit when he's cocked up. Doesn't like to receive them - doesn't like to be handed things, let alone a chance at forgiveness. He's made enough mistakes that no one person can set him free of the guilt that is his due.

He hides in his lab, hides in the tower, hides as far away as he can. The witch can see minds, though, and he's no doubt she'll find him if he's not careful. 

He's really not sure why he's attempting to make her something to make that easier.

"'cause you like making shit for your friends, Tony," Rhodey says when he asks. "Come on. You think I don't know you? You gave me access to your suits for God's sakes. She's on your team, so she's your friend. Even if you're both enemies still."

"I don't think we are," Tony says. "I think she tried to call truce."

"Well," says Rhodey, gesturing with his beer. "That's up to you to respond to."

 

* * *

 

Vision phases through the wall of his lab one day when he knows for sure that Wanda is off on a training mission. Steve had taken the Quinjet off with Rhodey and Sam and Wanda - and, for that matter, Vision too - and they were all supposed to be out until the evening. 

"It's eight o'clock, Sir." FRIDAY's voice is almost gentle in its rebuke. 

"We wondered if you wanted to join us for dinner," Vision says. "I believe the Captain said that if you don't spend some time not avoiding Miss Maximoff he may send her down here to fetch you for dinner herself."

Oh God. Steve is trying to play parent. 

"I'll be up," Tony says, and starts trying to get the grime off his hands. 

 

* * *

 

Dinner is awkward. Stark almost pointedly avoids looking at her. Vision glances between them concerned, and his hand is strangely still under hers. His mind lays out his thoughts clearly, yellow text against a dark green backing.  _ This is far ruder than normal. _

Wanda knows why, but cannot say it in English. 

"Maybe," she says in Sokovian, "He should not be threatened into my presence."

Vision's expression is not abashed. It is not sad. It is, perhaps, wounded, a little. She does not think he knows what to do with the complicated bouquet of emotions even a gentle reprimand can bring. 

"I am finished," Wanda says, setting her cutlery into place. Her plate is almost entirely untouched. "What time is training tomorrow?"

Steve looks concerned, but Natasha barely looks up. It is not because she doesn't care, Wanda knows. It is because she knows exactly how much she should care for what is going on. 

"0900hrs. Be there or be square."

"I do not think any of us can be  _ square." _

Sam and Rhodes chuckle at that, and Wanda leaves in the knowledge that, at the least, she has not made dinner any more awkward than Tony had. 

 

* * *

 

Later, when the others are chatting and washing up, there is a knock at Wanda's door.

She's sat with her guitar - something the psychiatrist they assigned her suggested, and though she has generally done her level best to ignore the woman, this has been something which helped. It keeps her fingers busy, encourages precision without scarlet and requires focus enough that she cannot dwell on old memories. Also, musical notation is even worse than English. 

"Come in!" she calls, without looking. She has an inkling of who it might be even without turning scarlet eyes to look and with her guitar in her hands she is careful not to see in scarlet. 

"Uh," Stark says. 

"There's a seat." Wanda points at the chair at her desk. "Feel free."

She does not watch as Tony takes the seat, just hears the slight squeak as it sinks down a little at the weight. Wanda runs her fingers over the guitar strings, and then sets it down. She'd rather not break it, if it comes to an argument. 

"So," she says, turning. "You are here. Are you as sick of us being awkward as I am? I think the team is very nearly... what is the phrase? At the end of their tether?"

 

* * *

 

She's weirdly calm, like she expected this. Then again, this is her space and she's a goddamn telepath. Makes fuckin' sense. 

God, he's really bad at apologies, isn't he. Fuck it. Let's start with that. 

"I'm really shit at apologies," Tony says, and her face goes from wary to warm. "I mean, I think you've grasped that by now. I'm better at  _ showing _ than actually, like, saying, and better at just  _ doing _ shit than either."

"That is why you made Ultron," she says. "I did not have to give you the idea. Just make you reckless."

God fucking damnit. He needs to get some kind of mental shielding because even if what Vision says is true she cuts to the point almost as quick as Pepper or Nat can and he doesn't think he'd know what to do with another woman who can do that to him. 

"Yeah," he says. "That's true."

"You need to think more," she says. She's moved from the ottoman to the edge of her bed, perched on the end with her legs crossed beneath her. So close to the end she looks almost like she might tilt off far too easily, but she doesn't seem to mind. She can probably catch herself with her weird smoke if it comes to it anyway. "You tend to dive in without thinking. We both do. That is why I apologised. We both need to think more. Apologising, and knowing what we have done, that is the first step."

Oh God, now she sounds like his old therapist. 

Then again, she's also not  _ wrong. _ That's the most galling bit. 

Tony sighs. "I didn't really- when you apologised, I didn't really accept it. I don't- I don't like being confronted with things, with being handed blame or praise or anything else for that matter."

"Says the man born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

Yeah, irony award of the year, girlie. Not like Pepper and Rhodey haven't pointed that one out before.

"Yeah," he says, because that seems easiest. "Look. I don't know if I can forgive you. I'm bad at dealing with my issues, I know, but they're my damn issues. I don't need someone leafing through them trying to find the fun bits. Believe me, they're really not fun."

She tilts her head, looks at him closely. There's a focus to her gaze, almost as strong as when they encountered them on Klaue's ship. Focused and without distraction. She shrugs. "I do not go into minds anymore. Not without permission. Vision lets me in, but even then. I do not go combing through people's minds without reason."

"Yeah," says Tony. "That. You did before, though."

"You were enemies, then. You are not now. Besides, there are other reasons."

Tony raises his eyebrows. 

Her eyes close, her face goes from something bordering on fierce to something tired and sad and far too old for someone of her age. "I felt my brother die." Her voice is almost a whisper. "I have been in his head since I had the ability to, since he let me in. Even at a distance, I have known where he is, what he is doing, if he is well. I sent him away to help others, to help make amends for our vengeance, and then I  _ felt him die." _ Her eyes do not open, but there are tears on her cheeks. "Nine bullets," she says. "I felt them. I felt his breath. I felt him speak. I felt him die."

Her eyes open, but there's no scarlet to them. Nothing but tears. "Touching minds, after that, I do not want to. He died because I told him to go. He died because I chose to ally us to Ultron. He died because I put fear into your head. Do you understand? I do not ask your forgiveness. I only ask understanding. Truce. I have hated you too long for us to simply become  _ friends." _

Tony really doesn't know if he can offer even that. "I'm sorry," he says instead. 

Despite the tears, she manages to smile. "Bad at apologies?" she asks. 

"Terrible."

For a long moment there is just quiet. 

"Truce?" Wanda asks. "I do not want friendship. I do not want forgiveness. I do not even want your company, or for you to make things for me as you do everyone else. Just for us to not avoid each other and make things worse for the team."

Tony looks at her. He  _ sees _ her. Like Vision said, she's not a threat. She's a girl, barely twenty two and with far too much grief for her age. 

"Sure," he says, far more gently than he expects to. "Truce."

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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